


To Bring You Back To Me

by orphan_account



Series: aroacewritingplace - Parkner Halloween Week [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (sort of- it's his apartment), First Kiss, First Meetings, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Kissing, M/M, Necromancy, Reunions, Tenderness, parkner halloween week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter's been living with a ghost in his haunted apartment for far too long, and he needs to get him out of there.Or, Peter does a bit of necromancy.





	To Bring You Back To Me

**Author's Note:**

> yo yo yo it's Parkner Halloween Week! Unfortunately I'm only doing four of the days because I'm mad busy but!! I hope you like what I have to offer for the next few days!

“Are you sure this is going to work?” If anyone walking by had been able to see into the apartment for a split second they would have seen a young man with curly brown hair sitting on the floor, talking to nothing but the air.

“Well, you practiced, right?” Harley’s voice, as always, was barely an echo to Peter’s ears. It sounded like he was speaking from the other end of a tunnel which, Peter pondered, he probably was in some sense. 

“Yeah, but only on like… not-people things.” Peter tensed, thumbs flipping pages of the ancient, crackling book back and forth. 

“It’s only going to work tonight,” Harley whispered. “The veil between the dead and the living-”

“Yeah, that’s what Doctor Strange said, too, I’m just worried that I’ll fuck it up.” Peter swallowed against the lump in his throat, staring at the words he had been staring at for the past few months, the inscriptions burned into his skull.

Harley’s breath could barely be felt against his cheek. “You won’t,” he said. “I’m right here with you.”

“I don’t want to wait another year,” Peter said firmly, allowing Harley’s confident words to be a boost of courage to him. “I can do this.”

The carvings on the floor would be a permanent addition to the apartment, but hopefully one day the scratches in the wood would fade to a happy memory.

There was light pressure against his temple, like the memory of a kiss. If Peter squinted he could almost see the faint outline of a man with wavy hair that brushed the base of his neck, smiling at him.

Peter took a deep breath and began to chant.

_“If you didn’t have enhanced strength, this would certainly kill you,”_ Strange had said the third time Peter had gone to seek consultation from him, no longer looking for a way to get rid of the ghost in his apartment but for a way to bring him back to the land of the living. _“But with the connection you hold to him, it just might work.”_

Peter chanted, the words foreign and unfamiliar on his tongue as he spoke in a language long-reserved for the dead. The air grew thicker around him as he spoke, and after a while a rotten smell filled his nose and lungs. He nearly stumbled but forced himself to keep chanting through it, fully aware of what one mistake could mean for Harley.

There was something like a dark void expanding in front of Peter’s eyes, so deep in its darkness that Peter forced himself to close his eyes to keep his lips moving and his vocal chords producing the right sounds.

_“It’s going to hurt. Both him and yourself. You must not cease the ritual, above all else.”_

“Peter!” Harley’s yell was louder, clearer than Peter had ever heard it, but he knew he wasn’t done, wasn’t nearly close enough, so he gritted his teeth and wrinkled his forehead and continued chanting.

Peter’s hands spasmed, and he dropped the book. He gasped, but covered it as an inhale. His shoulders twinged with pain, and somewhere in the back corner of his awareness, he could hear screaming. The words poured forth from his mouth on instinct, he could no longer think over the tightness in his chest and the pounding in his head. 

He was nearing the end of the incantation. Only a few more lines to go.

_“Other spirits will try and use the opening you’ve created to their own advantage. You need a phrase that the two of you share alone, something no other spirit could try and guess.”_

Peter exhaled, lips sore from the constant chanting. Exhaustion crashed into him in an enormous wave, and Peter couldn’t stop himself from falling forward, too exhausted to even open his eyes.

Two large hands cradled his head, laying him on what felt like someone’s thigh. “Oh my god,” a familiar voice said hollowly, deeper and louder than any other time Peter had heard before.

Hope lept into Peter’s throat. “A-are you afraid of the dark?” he whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy.

There was a sniff, like someone was trying to keep from crying. “With you, I don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Peter’s eyes blinked open, the heavy weight of exhaustion the only thing keeping him from leaping to his feet. He turned, feeling the hand trailing through his curls shift with him. 

“Your eyes are blue,” he murmured, staring up in wonder at Harley’s bright blue eyes, glistening with what looked like tears. “You’re really here.”

“You brought me back, Peter,” Harley said, voice shaking, tears making their way down his cheeks. He laughed shakily, swallowing. “I- I can touch things again, I can feel you, I’m not going to go through you, I can-” His breathing stuttered, eyes dilating slightly. “Can I-”

Peter lifted himself up, shuddering as another wave of exhaustion passed through him, but he forced himself to turn because he had been waiting so long for this he didn’t feel he could go another second without doing it.

They both stared at each other, kneeling and facing each other. “Hi,” Peter whispered.

A wide smile spread across Harley’s face. “Hi,” he said. His hands rose up, brushing the curve of Peter’s face, tracing down the side of his head and sliding along his jaw. 

Peter sniffled, unaware that he had been crying until this moment. Harley’s hand slid backward, one hand resting on his jaw and the other moving to hold the back of his head. “I can hold you now,” he said reverently. “I can feel you.”

Peter’s hands smoothed over the curve of Harley’s shoulders, and he let out a shuddering exhale. “I can feel you too,” he said softly. “You’re really here.”

Harley laughed wetly again, a sob bubbling up between his lips. “Fuck,” he said, tears pooling in his eyes. “You brought me back.”

“You’re here,” Peter gasped, grip tightening on Harley’s shoulders to draw him closer. Harley’s eyes fluttered shut as Peter’s did, and their lips met in a quick and desperate kiss, both craving the contact they had been unable to obtain for so long. They pulled back, laughing before Harley’s hands pulled Peter forward to kiss him again, this time slowly, tenderly. Peter’s hands slid down around Harley’s back and around his waist, relishing in the feeling of finally feeling him here, in his arms, completely.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know how you liked it!! kudos and comments are lifeblood tbh
> 
> the tumblr is yeehaw-parkner :)  
hope you enjoyed!


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